


Batman is Drunk

by ArgentNoelle, Sonia34



Series: The Adventures of Batman and Joker [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Bad Puns, Bats, Conversations, Drunkenness, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Mustaches, Puns & Word Play, Secret Identity, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentNoelle/pseuds/ArgentNoelle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonia34/pseuds/Sonia34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunk Batman enjoys the company of butlers, bats, and clowns</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batman is Drunk

Bruce Wayne was lying on his bed. Alfred had put him there, because he was quite drunk and he refused to have him wandering aimlessly all over the mansion, because he said there was cleaning to be done and Bruce was just getting in the way.

It had only been a minute since Bruce had agreed to get his head down on the pillow, and Alfred was standing over him, triumphant but still very worried. “Now you stay there, Master Bruce, you have to get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Bruce said petulantly, lifting an arm to gesture, which promptly fell back onto his bed. Bruce stared at it a moment as though willing it to move. It didn’t. He narrowed his eyes.

“Arms these days.” Alfred said, shaking his head.

Bruce sighed, leaning back on his pillow. He stared contemplatively at the ceiling for a moment. Then he frowned. “How will I know if the ceiling’s right side up?” he asked.

“I assure you, it is,” Alfred said.

 “I should paint a bat on it,” Bruce continued. “Then if my head’s where the top of the bat picture is I know it’s right side up.”

“Don’t you think that would be a bit of a giveaway?” Alfred asked.

“What? Everyone likes bats.”

“Whatever you say, Master Bruce.”

“I should have a pet bat. Then I could use it like a pirate uses a parrot, and train it like a falcon so it would attack people.” Bruce struggled into a sitting position.

“What are you doing, Master Bruce?”

“I need to protect Gotham.”

“Gotham’s fine. It’s got Gordon; and remember, Harvey Dent got most of the criminals locked up. So I am afraid I must insist that you lie down.” Alfred gestured sharply at the bed.

 Bruce scowled, but slumped down onto his pillow.

“You know…” Bruce mused. “When you get really animated, I feel like you have a moustache.”

“I can assure you I don’t. I think I’d know if I had one.”

“You might not. If you only had it sometimes.”

“Are you suggesting that I’ve got a moustache that comes and goes of it’s own accord?”

“No,” said Bruce. “Yes. “ He furrowed his brow. “I don’t think…”

Alfred walked to the door and switched off the light. “Try and get some rest,” he said softly.

Bruce closed his eyes.

 

* * *

Bruce glanced over at the clock. It had been two minutes since the last time he had looked at it.

He should visit Joker. Joker was funny.

Bruce stumbled out of bed before realizing something very important. He walked over to where he kept his batman suit. He had to make sure he kept his true identity a secret.

A little while later, Bruce walked up to the Joker’s hideout. He had tried to take the batmobile, but he couldn’t get the key to turn.

It was one of the nicer abandoned warehouses the Joker frequently inhabited, looking almost homey. It even had a shiny brass knocker. He knocked. There was a scuffling sound from inside, and a noise that was vaguely reminiscent of someone dropping a pile of dishes. An eye appeared behind a small glass circle in the door that Bruce had failed to notice.

“Batsy!” Joker exclaimed. He opened the door. “Come in.”

Bruce staggered through.

“You don’t look so good,” the Joker observed. “Did Alfred poison you?”

Bruce absentmindedly patted Joker on the shoulder. Joker stepped back, giving him a strange look. “Are you drunk?” he asked. He looked him up and down. “It would explain the clothes.”

Bruce looked down as well. He didn’t notice anything strange about his clothes. He was wearing a nice black suit. Although the tie was missing, and maybe the buttons weren’t quite done up correctly.

Joker indicated his face. “You gonna take that off? It doesn’t really match the rest of your attire.”

He reached up to his mask, then gave Joker a suspicious look. “I can’t. Then you’d know my secret identity.”

“Bruce, I already know your secret identity.”

Bruce stared at him. “I’m Batman,” he said.

“Why don’t we go into the other room?” Joker offered amiably. “I’ll make some tea, and give you a nice glass of cold water. Don’t mind the mess, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.”

Bruce followed Joker into the kitchen, tripping over something on the floor. “You should really clean those up,” he said.

“Still looking for a good blood remover,” Joker called from the next room.

A few minutes later, the two were sitting at Joker’s cluttered table. He had pushed aside a bunch of papers and books, dumping them in the corner, so he could fit a pot of tea and a plate of stale cookies on top.

Bruce broke the cookies into pieces and tossed them on the floor when Joker was looking the other way. He didn’t want to get poisoned.

“So, what are you doing here?” Joker asked after a few minutes, as Bruce stared at the ice floating in his glass, wondering how they got the bubbles in it. “Is this a social visit?”

“I just wanted to hang out,” Bruce answered. “…It’s a pun,” he explained. “Because I’m a bat.”

“I gathered,” Joker said drily. “You know, you sound so much more welcoming when you’re not using that fake voice.”

Bruce frowned. “I am using my fake voice.”

“Ah,” Joker nodded.  They sat in silence for a minute or two. “So,” he said. “What do you do for fun?”

“Beat people up,” Bruce answered cogently.

“You know, we should really get together more often,” Joker said. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t.”

“You mean this is just a one-night-tea?” Joker widened his eyes.

Bruce snickered.

“So you do have a sense of humor,” Joker said delightedly. “Wait right here, I have to get my camera.”

 

* * *

“You’re a good friend.”

The time had gone by. Bruce and Joker sat on a threadbare couch in the corner of his warehouse. Bruce stared at the hypnotic motion of the purple and red lava lamp beside them. “I have this friend, Rachel. She’s my best friend. I was kind of in love with her but really she’s my best friend. …I haven’t seen her in a really long time.”

Next to him, Joker was silent.

 “I miss her.” He looked up at Joker.  

“…where is she?”


End file.
